


All the Way Home I'll Be Warm

by indirectkissesiniceland



Category: South Park
Genre: Commitment, Fluff, M/M, co-parenting pets, supportive boyfriend craig
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-20
Updated: 2017-12-20
Packaged: 2019-02-17 06:55:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13071495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indirectkissesiniceland/pseuds/indirectkissesiniceland
Summary: Dog-sitting Sparky has Craig thinking about his future with Tweek.





	All the Way Home I'll Be Warm

"Thanks for coming with me, Craig." Tweek squeezed his hand, and Craig squeezed back. In Craig's other hand was Sparky's leash. The old dog lumbered ahead of them, knowing the way from the minute Tweek said the word "park."

"Sure."

When he'd received the _SOS!!_ text, Craig had replied right away, only to learn that Tweek's emergency was dog-sitting for Stan.

"Honey?"

"Gah! I've never dogsatinmylife, why would he askmeto, _ngh_ , dothis? I don't wanttokillSparky!"

"Hon—honey, slow down."

After a brief back-and-forth, Craig helped Tweek settle down and got the story out of him. Apparently, Stan's family was going away for the weekend, and his pitch had been "Kyle is sick, Kenny is poor, and like hell I'd let Cartman anywhere near my dog."

"We haven't hung out in years! _Ngh, geh_ , whywouldStan ask me?"

"He knows that you're a good friend," Craig soothed, staring at the glow-in-the-dark star stickers peeling off his ceiling. Tweek breathed heavily, the puffs turning to static in Craig's ear through the cell phone. "And Sparky is an old dog, so he's trained. He won't be much trouble."

"You know more about animals thanIdo, _ngh_...will you help me?"

Craig could think of a million things he'd rather do with his weekend than a favor for Stan Marsh, especially things to do with his boyfriend. His mouth was tragically on autopilot, though, and "Of course" came out without so much as a breath of hesitation.

They reached the park and Craig let Sparky off his leash. He trotted around them in a circle, headbutting Tweek's legs until Tweek crouched down to scratch behind his ears.

That was the thing—as much pressure as Tweek fretted about dog-sitting Sparky, he really liked animals. Craig could still remember how Tweek had cradled Stripe in his arms all those years ago. In spite of his nervousness and tremors, Tweek had been totally calm petting him, the same way he was calm right now.

"Who's a good boy? Who is it?" Tweek's voice grew increasingly ridiculous as he ruffled Sparky's fur. The old dog panted in a frenzy of affection. "It's you! You're a good boy!"

Craig had known for a long time that animals were good for Tweek. Before Dad had accidentally sat on Stripe the Third, Tweek loved picking him up and feeding him baby carrots, and he didn't so much as shiver when he was doing it. After the funeral—Craig had spared Tweek the details of how Stripe passed—ten-year-old Craig proposed taking the next step of their relationship by adopting a pet together.

Stripe the Fourth had ended up spending most of his time at Craig's house, though Tweek came over all the time to see him. Now that he'd passed, too—of old age, thankfully—Craig wondered if they should think about another pet.

Sparky ran around the park for about fifteen minutes while Craig and Tweek found a bench to sit on. Tweek curled up into Craig's side so quickly it was practically a reflex, and just as automatically, Craig's arm slung itself around his shoulders. Craig wondered if he'd ever really been able to say no to him. The dog ignored Craig as much as his owner did, but he found the energy of a puppy to race to Tweek's side whenever he called.

"He seems to like you," Craig said.

"Jealous?" Tweek chirped back.

"No." But he squeezed Tweek's shoulder a little, to be funny. Tweek's laugh twinkled in his ear.

Somewhere between the little skip of his heart that still came whenever Tweek teased him, and the ease with which Tweek convinced Sparky to sit still and get his leash reattached to his collar, Stripe's chubby cheeks and little nose entered Craig's mind. He loved having a pet with Tweek, and he loved how having a pet soothed Tweek.

They were six months away from graduation, which meant they were six months and a day away from packing up Craig's old truck and moving to their own apartment in Denver or Boulder, wherever they got into college. Maybe L.A., if that was what Tweek wanted. It might make more sense to wait until they were wherever before they got a new pet.

The idea and the timing lingered in Craig's mind while they walked Sparky home and gave him a bath, fed him, and struggled with the pooper scooper. And wouldn't leave the whole time they watched _Wonder Woman_ on the couch, Tweek draped across Craig, Sparky draped across Tweek.

At the end of the weekend when it was time for Sparky to go home, Tweek took a few extra seconds of snuggling Sparky's fuzzy face. The feeling was mutual; Stan practically had to drag his dog across the street to his house.

"Why don't you stay for dinner?" Tweek asked Craig. His eyes followed Sparky disappearing into the Marshes' house.

"Sure, okay."

Craig actually hated staying at Tweek's for dinner. Not because he didn't like the extra time together, but because he got a front-row seat to all of the calming effect Sparky had on Tweek go to waste. His parents would blather on and on, insult or vaguely _threaten_ Tweek, and turn him back into a skittering, anxious mess. It happened basically every time they went to a matinee movie and came back for dinner, which was the primary reason Craig started proposing more nighttime dates. At least he could keep Tweek calm and send him home and straight to bed.

Mrs. Tweak set pork chops, potatoes, and green beans out on the table. It took all of four seconds for Mr. Tweak to start up a conversation.

"Stan came and got his dog?" he asked.

"Yeah." Tweek's knife skidded against his plate as he cut into his pork chop.

"That's good. I know it was a last-minute thing because Kyle got sick, but he really should know better than to ask you to take care of his pet."

Craig shoveled a forkful of potatoes in his mouth to stop a comment from coming out. His foot found Tweek's under the table and tapped against it. This too was a ritual of theirs. Tweek glanced over at him.

"I liked having Sparky here, eventhough, _ngh_ , itwasonly, _geh_ , for a day..."

"Well, sure, dogs are fun and cute, but they're a lot of work! A dog is a big responsibility." Mr. Tweak rotated his wrist, swirling his knife through the air. "You'd think Stan would have a more dependable friend he could call, even at the last minute."

Tweek's foot came down hard on Craig's this time. When Craig looked down, he saw that his knuckles had gone white around his fork and his knife.

"I'm not... _that_ irresponsible," Tweek mumbled.

"At least you had Craig here," Mr. Tweak said brightly, digging into his green beans. "Thank goodness you've got a better half, Tweek. Your mother and I were always afraid that one day, when we're worm food, you wouldn't have anyone to take care of you."

Craig gritted his teeth. "Tweek doesn't need anyone to take care of him."

Both of Tweek's parents turned to him in alarm. "Oh, dear," Mrs. Tweak said, "you're not breaking up, are you?"

" _What_?" Craig asked. Tweek squawked at the same time.

"I told you, Helen," Mr. Tweak said, setting down his fork and knife and shaking his head. "They'll see out the last year of high school together and then drift apart, like a dandelion on a cool summer's breeze, floating away over the ocean—"

"We're not breaking up!" Craig put his fork down a little harder than he meant to, and it _clanged_ against the table. Tweek's hand curled over his forearm in a blink, its warm weight slowing Craig's frustrated huffs of breath. "I'm just saying that Tweek can take care of himself, and a dog, if he wants, just fine. I'm his boyfriend, not his babysitter."

Tweek's parents exchanged a long look before making vague noises that sounded like polite agreement, and then they were off talking about their latest blond roast.

After dinner, Tweek saw Craig to the door. "You shouldn't've lost your temper." He folded his arms and leaned against the door frame while Craig passed through to the top step.

"I can't help it. I hate it when people talk about you like that."

"They're my parents, though."

"Don't care."

The last hint of a tremor in Tweek's fingers died away, a wry smile finding its way to his face. When Craig tilted his head up from the lower step, Tweek kissed him goodnight. It was a pretty long kiss, so Craig figured he hadn't actually minded when Craig talked back to his parents.

Dinner must have just ended in the Tucker house as well. Trish was washing dishes when Craig walked in through the back door. "Hey, Craig, want to be a pal and finish these for me?"

"Nope." Craig breezed through the kitchen, returning his sister's middle finger, on his way to the living room. On the couch, Mom's face was completely hidden from view by the library hardcover of her latest book club thriller and Dad, in his recliner, squinted at his paper because he refused to get glasses. Craig waited for them to sense his presence rather than announcing himself.

"Oh, hey, son." Dad looked up from his paper, and Craig was pretty sure he was relieved to have an excuse to stop straining his eyes. "What's up?"

"Hi, baby," Mom added, the hardcover tilting ever so slightly so Craig could see her eyes.

"Hey." Rambling never paid off for the Tuckers. Straight to the point was the way to go. "I want a dog."

Mom slid a bookmark into her page and closed her book in a perfectly fluid motion. "Baby, that's a big—"

"A dog!" Dad tossed aside his paper with a grin. "Now that's a good pet!" It was South Park's worst-kept secret that Dad suffered for years in a household where his son had an endless parade of what he called "rats" and his daughter insisted on naming all of their cats after Barbie and her friends.

"It would only be here for a little while, and then it'd move with me when I go to school," Craig said to appease his mother. She didn't look totally convinced, but he knew she wasn't closed off to the idea, either. Mom was very reasonable.

"So, what were you thinking?" Dad asked. "Rottweiler? Boxer?"

"One of those big fluffy ones that will sit with its head in your lap while you pat it." Craig guesstimated the medium-ish size by gesturing with his hands. Mom hid her smile behind her book, and Dad sighed.

"You and Tweek can take your truck to the shelter. I don't want your dog shedding in the backseat of my car."

For all his huffing and puffing over a non-attack dog, Craig knew Dad said stuff like that for show. He heard it in the way he said _your dog_ , making _your_ sound like a two-person possessive, and the quiet way he accepted whatever Craig wanted.

"Cool." The only question now was whether to tell Tweek beforehand or surprise him. With a dog that was ten times better than Stan's.


End file.
